


Inner Demons

by hearts_kun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Apathy, Gen, Missing Scene, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: His own distortions slip through his fingers, dissolving. He's forever sentenced to self-awareness.





	Inner Demons

“Is that how your inner demons look like? Disgusting,” Shido grins, when he finally sees Loki. All for the sake of research, of course. The research that Wakaba Isshiki was never able to finish.

Goro doesn’t feel guilty.

Goro doesn’t feel.

*

He returns to his apartment and buries his face in his deadly cold palms and tries to scream. But no matter how much he opens his mouth, not a single cry bursts out of it. Because Goro Akechi can’t afford to cry.

Because Goro Akechi can’t afford to pity himself.

Because Goro Akechi is no longer.

There’s a desire for revenge instead, burning, hurting. There’s helplessness and a desire to regain control. There’s Loki at his side, showing him the way. Straight to hell.

_Is that how your inner demons look like?_

Yes, and no. Heels clattering on the marble floor of his soul. Sickening parasitic horns piercing thick air. The man he hates the most is right: the manifestation of his true self looks disgusting — and he hates it. He hates it, with passion.

He hates himself.

He gathers bits of his blackened soul, leaving small cuts from sharp edges, and engulfs them, accepts them without judgement, without tears — and he hates himself. A palace of twisted thoughts, a dimension of warped desires. Metaphorical death of self-awareness just for the sake of drowning in deep waters of delusions. Inner demons fully ruling your mind. How beautiful would it be?

But he can’t know. He has no demons to rule over him, no strength (no weakness) to give himself up. He is his own demon. Rushing through other people’s lives, not looking back, not feeling anything.

And it keeps breaking him, keeps crushing him, keeps helping him crumble in his self-awareness, like a withered flower, a helpless entity of suffering and self-pity.

And he hates it.

_Disgusting._

But he doesn’t feel guilty.

He doesn’t feel.


End file.
